Solving the Vampire Murders

seventeen

"Torren?" came a quiet voice outside the door. "You in there?"

The question pulled Torren's gaze from the cluttered bathroom countertop where he had been contemplating that single drop of blood.

The one that had rolled down his chin and landed between flecks of pink glitter and iridescent eyeshadow dust. Whether it was curiosity or terror constricting his thoughts, he couldn't be sure, but the question of who that droplet of blood belonged to had consumed him.

He was trying not to think about the implications of this bond between the uncanny and the living. But his brain wasn't wired to ignore. If this drop of blood was in fact Davey's, what did that mean?

Torren wanted to believe that this splatter of blood was his own, but there was no wound inside his mouth. No cut.

And then there was the taste of it. The cloying sweetness of the blood that refused to leave his tongue. It was the sickening taste of overripe cantaloupes and wizened apples, mixed with the stale favor of abandoned Rust Belt steel. Decay muddling the sharp tang of metal.

For all his pondering, Torren had come to no conclusions. That splatter of blood changed everything.

A gentle knock and the futile twist of the locked doorknob forced movement into his limbs.

"T, open up!"

This time, Torren registered the voice as distinctly male. Urgent and strained.

The demand was followed by the sounds accompanying a tussle. Grunts. Curses. The yawn of ripping cotton. Torren pulled his brows together, wiping the corner of his mouth with his bare shoulder. He stared at the layers of bathrobes piled on the door hook—fluffy terry cloth, black satin, thick fleece--swaying with each bump and shudder.

Then a second voice came like a staccato burst of bullets.

"Lemme go, damnit!"

That wasn't the strangled sound of the uncanny—he knew these voices. Torren clawed his way back to the present, unlocking the door and wrenching it open, thereby causing two bodies to topple inside.

Zach's fingers sought purchase on a towel bar, struggling to keep from tripping over Austin's body. Austin, who had landed in a graceless heap, seemed unable to pull his clasped hands from behind his back.

Torren conducted a quick sweep of the darkened hallway and found it thankfully empty—except for the set of yellow eyes. Glinting like two golden coins offered to Charon for safe passage across the river Styx. The cat sauntered over, rubbing its lip against Torren's leg before hopping over the two struggling roommates.

Torren pushed Zach and Austin inside the bathroom, then shut and locked the door.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" Torren said in an angry whisper. "Are you crazy? This is a sorority house!"

Austin grunted, writhing on the tiled floor and fighting against invisible bonds. Upon more careful examination, Torren noticed his shaggy blonde hair was clumped together in places and charred black at the ends. The aroma of burnt hair filling his nose. There were even curious little burn marks dotting his blue hospital gown.

Finally, Austin stopped fighting. Porcelain cheeks pinked and blue eyes wide. His small frame and petite features looked almost doll-like. Although, this particular doll must have been rescued from a fireplace.

"Tell this moron to let me go."

"Moron?" Zach huffed. Straightening his Dolce and Gabbana frames. The diamond stud in his ear winked rainbow light around the small bathroom. "You're the one who flame-sprayed your hospital bed. And the dude next to you."